Disclaimer: Not Mine

Author's note: Enjoy, please.

There are two quotes in this chapter that need to be attributed as follows:

The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealised past.

Robertson Davies, "A Voice from the Attic", 1960

We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

Joseph Campbell (1904 - 1987)

Draco had never attended an AV dinner before, though he'd avidly read the reports of them each year in the newspapers, so stepping into the ballroom at the Ministry made him feel like a child at Christmas, with so much happening all at once. The event was the jewel in the crown of a peaceful wizarding world and, as such, was a glittering event, funded by the Ministry, and attended by rich and poor alike. Draco assumed that was why the whole Weasel species were out in numbers; the room was dotted liberally with shocks of red hair. He had come to respect Ron somewhat, having worked with him on the security arrangements for his ball, and having tolerated him as one of the guards on duty. The man appeared to have matured. However, Draco had no time for the rest of them. Vacuous twats the lot of them. Particularly ginger bits.

When he and Harry, along with Pansy, Markus, Blaise, his mother and her escort arrived, they were greeted like royalty.

'Ah, welcome, Draco.' The Minister for Magic shook Draco's hand in his firm grasp. The man still dressed like he belonged on a different continent, but Draco had admired several of his reforms since the war and respected him.

'Minister, thank you for inviting us.' Draco smiled. 'You know Harry of course,' Draco continued, introducing the rest of their party. 'My mother, Narcissa, her escort for the evening, Hortin MacDonald.'

'Yes, of course.' Kinglsey nodded at Harry, then bent gallantly over Narcissa's hand. 'You look lovely tonight. And Hortin, it's good to see you, too. I hear that the orphanage will be the beneficiary of the proceeds of the Malfoy ball.'

'And very honoured I am to receive it at that, Minister,' Hortin replied in a soft Irish accent. Draco noticed that Narcissa was watching Hortin with a small contented smile on her face. Draco wondered if the friendship they'd rekindled had developed into something more romantic. He hoped so; Hortin was proving to be an intelligent, well-connected gentleman, and Draco thought he might make a good partner for his mother.

Draco introduced the rest of his party and the group made small talk for a short while, before Kingsley excused himself to greet some other guests.

'Markus has seen some business associates, so we'll see you later at the table.' Pansy stretched up to kiss Draco's cheek. 'I might just change my mind about older men. If only they all were as shaggable as the Minister,' she whispered close to his ear.

Draco gave her a scandalised laugh and pushed her away. 'Go play, and leave me here to brave the crowds on my own, then.'

'You have hero Harry here to look after you, drama queen,' Pansy retorted, and caught Potter's glare. 'Oh, I'm teasing, Harry; haven't you learnt that by now?'

'Oh, I've learned that, for sure,' Harry replied. Draco knew Potter was suppressing a grin because the light in Potter's eyes changed. He frowned, wondering how he knew that. 'I just like practising my dark and surly hero look to deflect sundry attackers and fans,' Potter deadpanned then broke into a wide grin and made Pansy laugh.

It seemed Potter had overcome his nerves somewhat and was prepared to be as warm and charming as ever, despite having to face friends and pseudo-family. Draco smiled, feeling smugly responsible for having calmed the Golden boy's nerves.

As Pansy and Markus left, followed shortly thereafter by his mother and Hortin, Draco fixed his public smile in place and hung tightly to Potter's arm for support. No matter how exciting it was to give the key-note speech, it was still daunting to meet so many who'd been involved in winning the war. And to have them all treating Draco with respect and gratitude was something to be savoured.

He caught Blaise giving the crowd a speculative assessment. 'See anyone you fancy?' Draco asked.

'Hm, there seems to be several young ladies worthy of my attention.' Blaise glanced at Draco. Then looked slowly to the right. Draco followed his gaze, and saw the ginger bits, dressed in some unearthly aubergine colour that clashed horribly with her hair. Checking that Potter hadn't sighted her yet, he smirked at Blaise and nodded.

'Well, you can go and work your legendary charm on those of the female gender. I am quite happy to spend my time with Harry, here. He can help me overcome my nerves.'

'I think we're both nervous, Draco,' Potter replied, finally spotting the ginger bits and frowning.

'Then we'll think of something to calm each other,' Draco retorted, wanting Potter's attention again.

'I'm sure you'll think of something interesting.' Blaise gave him one final smirk and made a beeline for a pretty blonde witch dressed in white.

'Do you want to go and speak to them?' Draco asked. The ginger bits was standing with the Mudblood, Weasley, and Longbottom, of all people.

'I think I should get it over and done with, don't you?'

'You're probably right, but I'm coming with you.'

'Draco, that's probably not a good idea–'

'I don't care, Harry,' Draco said, moving closer to Potter's side and squeezing his arm. 'I'm not letting you handle this on your own. What sort of friend would I be if I didn't support you?'

Potter frowned at him. 'Okay, you can lay off the crap now. I know the only reason you want to go over there with me is to provoke an argument. You haven't changed that much.'

Draco sighed, unreasonably amused that Potter was so astute. 'Possibly not; however, in this instance I wasn't planning on starting an argument, so don't I get points for trying?' He gave Potter an innocent smile and was pleased to see Potter's face soften and smile in return.

'I think not. I'll be back shortly. I need to do this on my own.'

Draco studied Potter's face for a few moments, hesitating to agree with him. On the one hand, there was a chance that if Potter spoke with his friends on his own, the ginger bits would take Potter back. On the other hand, Draco would benefit from showing Potter that he could be reasonable and trusted around his friends.

'Take all the time you need, Harry,' he finally said, sighing internally.

'You'll be all right on your own?'

Draco gave him a smile he hoped appeared brave. 'I think I can manage for a little while without you. I have the Auror guard and I'll check anything I drink or eat beforehand.'

Draco reached out and ran his thumb across Potter's jaw and said softly, 'Just don't leave me here too long or someone will run off with me.'

Potter's eyes widened and he inclined his head, before turning and making his way towards his friends.

He watched Potter leave, suddenly filled with the desire to run after him and mark him somehow as taken. He bit his lip in frustration as he held himself back, not entirely sure where this possessive streak had come from. Fortunately, several other guests approached him and he consoled himself that at least he had their attention, while Potter was heading into uncomfortable waters and had to deal with an ex-girlfriend.

…..

After half an hour of listening to the aging Mellifluous Malbanger regaling him with tales of her youth and stories of how her beaus had often fought duels to win the right to escort her to balls, Draco wondered if he could feign a headache and demand Potter take him to their table. It wasn't that Draco minded the fading beauty; she was a harmless old dear, but Draco had been stealing glances at Potter talking to his friends, and he was concerned because Potter seemed to be laughing an awful lot for someone dealing with a spiteful ex.

He was on the verge of excusing himself from Madam Malbanger's company, when Potter and Granger detached themselves from the ginger bits and Longbottom and walked, sidestepping several people trying to speak to them, towards Draco. Potter was smiling at Draco, which relieved him somewhat. Perhaps he'd really let the ginger bits go. As they moved closer, though, Draco noticed that Potter was very good at covering how much it was hurting him.

Granger's annoying voice assaulted Draco's ears as they approached and, while Draco had to admit that she looked not ugly in the elegant evening dress she'd chosen, he was not looking forward to having to make small talk with her. Even if she was also smiling at him.

'Draco!' She greeted him like a long lost friend, rather than someone who had been on the receiving end of insults for years, and hugged him. Draco awkwardly patted her back and tried not to shove her away. He caught Potter's relieved smile and he sighed inwardly, resigned to making nice, just so Potter wouldn't get that kicked-puppy look in his eyes again.

'Granger. Have you met Madam Malbanger?' he asked when she pulled back.

The elderly lady held out her hand and shook Granger's. "Lovely to meet you, young lady. I've heard many stories about you, but have never been given the chance to speak to you in person.'

'Oh, all good stories, I hope?' Granger replied, smiling at the old lady. 'Pleased to meet you. You've met Harry Potter?' Granger turned to indicate Potter standing beside her. Draco watched the pleasantries, content to study Potter for any indication of how the chat with his ex had turned out. But Potter must have developed an inscrutable face for public functions, because, apart from the glimpses of pain Draco saw in his eyes, there was nothing.

After several more moments, Madam Malbanger departed to mingle with the rest of the guests and the three of them were left alone. Well, Weasley was on guard duty, too, so there were four of them.

Draco wanted to ask Potter how he was, but not in front of the other two of the Golden Trio. Instead, he waited for them to begin the conversation, expecting to be told in no uncertain terms what a prick he was for stealing their precious Potter away from the ginger bits. Or words to that effect anyway. While Ron had been decent about it, he wasn't sure of Granger's position. Words were likely to be followed by threats of extreme bodily harm if Draco hurt Potter in any way. And he wasn't worried about it in the slightest; he'd always been able to handle Granger and her shrill Mudblood mouth. Except for the time she'd slapped him.

But Granger surprised him, by continuing to be friendly. 'Harry tells me the plans for your birthday ball are coming along really well.'

Draco nodded, hesitant, waiting for the snide remark, but it never came. 'I'm leaving most of the planning to Mother and Pansy but, yes, they do seem to be proceeding satisfactorily.'

'It's a wonderful thing you're doing, donating the proceeds to the Orphanage. I can't help thinking that if we can do whatever is necessary to ensure that they're well cared for and loved, then we might never have to face another Voldemort.'

Draco could not suppress the faint shiver that travelled up his spine at her use of the Dark Lord's name.

Granger continued. 'I know Harry's very proud of you, too.'

Flicking his eyes at Potter, he saw the confirmation. Potter was proud of him, was he? Why did that feel condescending; as if Draco had never done a decent thing in all his life before Potter decided what was worthwhile and what wasn't? Perhaps his choices hadn't been the best, but he'd done the only thing he thought he could at the time. How dare she make him feel deficient? If they'd been anywhere but in public and under scrutiny, Draco would have sneered at all of them and stalked away.

As it was, he merely inclined his head and looked away to take a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. He sipped it, after checking for poison, letting the silence lengthen. He didn't need their approval. Gone were the days when he was hanging on by a fingernail to the bottom rung of the social ladder.

After several more uncomfortable moments, with Granger attempting more conversation and Draco remaining silent, answering with nods and eyebrow raises, she gave up, and told Potter that she'd see him later.

'She means well, you know,' Potter said after the Mudblood had walked away.

Draco shook his head and faced Potter. 'And why should I care?'

Potter flushed. 'Because she's trying to get along with you. For me.'

'That doesn't answer my question. Why should I care? I don't want or need anything from her. Approval, friendship or even tolerance.'

Potter ran his hand through his hair, his fingers parting it like a possessed comb.

Draco sighed and grabbed Potter's wrist. 'Stop that. You already look like your hair hasn't seen a comb for a month.'

'Can't make it much worse then, can it?' Potter grinned.

Their eyes met and held, Draco looking past the grin lines, deeper to where the anxiety and insecurity lay.

Potter lost the grin while Draco was caught up studying the pretty hazel flecks around the irises. 'Well, maybe you could care because I do.'

'She really is trying,' Ron said from behind him. Draco glanced at Ron. 'She knows we get along all right now and she know hows much Harry respects you. She's trying.'

Respect? Draco turned back to Potter and saw the agreement in his face. Not even in his most private dreams had he ever thought of winning Potter's respect; he'd never even admitted to wanting it. Having it meant…something, didn't it? Draco felt a flush of pride at his achievement – strangely enough, it actually did feel like an achievement. But if he still hated Potter, why did he care what Potter thought of him? Was Pansy's concern for Potter well-founded? But that thought just made his pride rear up and remind him that Potter had always been handed everything on a platter, which was why he hated Potter in the first place.

…..

'The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfying future is, in fact, a return to an idealised past. But how do we learn anything from that? The past must always be that, the past. Looking back and reminiscing about what "used to be" clouds endless possibilities for the future, dulls the brilliance of challenging the unknown and creates bitterness for what can never be.

'I'm not going to dwell on the past; we all know what happened, and this dinner is held every year to celebrate the end of that. Instead, I want to touch on moving forward while being able to build upon those things about our past that are of merit.

'Traditions held for the sake of tradition are repressive and become stifling. How many of you are the product of a marriage that was forged through the traditions of your family?'

Draco smiled as he looked around the room. Being up on the stage was not daunting, despite his earlier nerves. In fact, he felt like he belonged up there holding the attention of the several-hundred-strong crowd. He saw many witches and wizards nodding at his question, mostly older people.

'I won't ask you if that worked out for you or not,' he joked with them. 'Some of you might find yourself sleeping on the couch when you return home if you answer that one honestly…oh, I mean incorrectly.' He rolled his eyes at his intentional mistake.

The satisfying ripple of laughter around the room made him smile again. 'My point is that in the past no one questioned that was the "right" way to do things. It was tradition and therefore unquestionable. If the war taught us anything, me in particular, it was that everything should be subject to questioning.

'To question what has always been, is to learn and move forward. To question hatred and intolerance is to educate oneself. To examine your feelings and beliefs is to understand yourself. They are constantly changing and evolving, just like life.'

Draco paused there and looked at Potter. He caught the fondness and regard in Potter's eyes and suddenly the words Draco had just spoken had never sounded truer. Draco didn't hate Potter anymore. He wasn't sure what he felt, but the hatred had disappeared and only questions remained. A fine tremor began in his hands as his thoughts raced over what the answers to those questions might be. Potter smiled back at him and Draco's knees threatened to give out from under him. He blinked and took a deep breath, realising that he was still on stage.

He continued his speech for several more minutes before summing up. 'In the end, to move forward, we must be willing to get rid of the life we'd planned so as to have the life that's waiting for us. We must keep our minds and our hearts open for any opportunity to grow.' Draco paused briefly. 'Thank you.'

Draco stepped down from the stage to thunderous applause but he barely heard it, so thoughtful was he about his rather stupendous epiphany. Many people stepped forward to shake his hand and he complied robotically, with a fake smile plastered on his face. But his eyes were searching for Potter, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable without him by his side.

Ron stepped up beside him and took him by the elbow. 'Come on; I'll help you get back to your table.'

'Thanks,' Draco said, relieved as Ron guided him past all the outstretched hands to the relative safety of their table.

As Draco sat down, the Minister for Magic took the stage and began his own speech. Draco finally had a chance to catch his breath. He could feel Potter close beside him, regarding him with some concern and after a moment, Draco turned and looked at him. 'I'm all right.'

'You looked a bit frightened there for a moment. I can see past the smile, Draco,' Potter said quietly. Draco frowned. Was his mask wearing that thin? 'Don't worry; you looked every bit the gracious hero that they expected; only I know you better.'

Draco sighed. 'They were just pressing a bit close and I'd forgotten that Weasley was on duty and behind me; that's all.'

'All right.'

Potter placed his hand on Draco's thigh. Draco jumped at the sudden contact. He was glad they were seated at a table and that the Minister was still speaking so he could pretend no one was watching him for a minute. A strange emotion seemed to well up inside him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hide away and examine it, or brush it aside and think about it later. If they could leave, he would. The newness of his realisation, too raw and near the surface, like a fresh wound without a dressing, made him feel small and vulnerable in the spotlight, for once.

He was suddenly grateful beyond belief for Harry's hand on his thigh; the warmth of Potter's palm soothed him and reminded him that he had Harry's protection.

'Your speech was great, by the way,' Harry said softly. 'I liked what you said about questioning things. You're right: people change; life changes; situations change; and while we have to live with the past, we cannot spend our lives fighting to return things to the way they were before the war. I wouldn't want certain things to return to the way they were.'

Draco turned to Harry, feeling his heart skip a beat when he saw a muscle in Harry's jaw twitch. 'No?'

Harry turned to him, smiling. 'We hated each other before the war; I wouldn't want us to return to that.'

'I thought you didn't want to want me, Harry.' Draco's voice was barely a whisper, but, caught up as he was in Harry's attention, he didn't care.

'Maybe the only barriers to that have been removed.'

Oh.

Draco's heart sped up and he covered Harry's hand on his thigh. If Harry was saying what he thought he was saying, then this would be a perfect time for their first kiss. Even if it wasn't on the dance floor, it was public enough.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, when I spoke to Ginny earlier, I was hoping that she'd take me back.'

Draco's breath caught in a hiss. Harry's eyes flicked away, and Draco's followed them to land on the ginger bits. She was sitting beside Longbottom, who had his arm around her shoulders. When Draco returned his attention to Harry, he saw some pain and regret there.

Draco had surprised himself earlier by not asking how Harry's discussion with his friends had gone, finding that being surrounded by people was not the best place to have a private discussion. Not if he wanted to keep details of that discussion out of the newspapers. But from the looks of the ginger bits and her affectionate date, it appeared that the Golden couple were now irrevocably history.

Anger at the ginger bits hurting Harry like that flared briefly, before Draco shoved it away, convincing himself that he would be quite happy to be the one to comfort Harry in his pain and invite the man into his bed for some sympathy sex.

For some Merlin-only-knew-reason, that idea sat bloody uncomfortably in Draco's stomach like a lump of lead.

'And I take it that things didn't go according to plan?'

'It's rather obvious that she's moved on, isn't it? Besides, Neville will be good for her.'

Draco squeezed Harry's hand. 'Oh, Harry, you're just too nice for your own good. Why aren't you angry as hell and throwing things around?' Draco was rather glad Harry was sitting beside him instead of being angry and throwing things around. Harry in a rage had a powerful effect on Draco's libido. The thought of developing an erection in full view of everyone at this formal function was rather different than half a stiffy on the dance floor after rubbing against a sexy body while dancing all night.

'Maybe I realised she's right. Maybe after hearing you speak, I realised that you're right, too. Maybe I should just give in and take what I want.'

'Maybe you should.' Draco held his breath and watched the desire flicker through Harry's eyes. The rest of the room ceased to exist for Draco as he clearly saw why people talked about drowning in someone else's eyes. He felt helpless and floundering out of his depth as Harry held his gaze but he couldn't have moved even if he'd wanted to.

'Kiss me, Harry.'